The Sorcerer and the Thief
by Ezlyphe
Summary: When a thief accidentally stumbles across the Land of the Black Sand, Mozenrath is less than amused. But he soon finds use for her when all she wants to do is escape.
1. Land of the Black Sand

**Author's note: So, here's a little story that I've had floating around in my head for some time. And I finally got off my lazy butt and wrote it out. But this time I decided to do things properly and got myself a beta reader. So, many many thanks to Uli for agreeing to work with me.**

**As for the title, don't you just _love_ my creativity? :D  
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><p><strong>Chapter One: Land of the Black Sand<strong>

It was night-time in the city of Agrabah. The sun had set a few hours ago and the sweltering heat of the day had been replaced by the biting chill of dusk. It was quiet. There were no crickets chirping, no snakes slithering and no scorpions scurrying across the sand. The people of Agrabah had long ago put out their lamps and retired to their beds. Not a sound could be heard from critters and creatures of any kind. Everything and everyone had settled down for their nocturnal slumber. Everyone – save one.

"Thief!"

"Quick! She went around that corner!"

"Don't let her get away!"

These shouts came from a group of palace guards as they chased closely after a fleeing hooded figure. They continued their shouting as the figure ducked through alleyways (not too bothered that the noise they were making woke the people who lived in the houses they passed). The thief was quick and agile, moving swiftly and silently through the night but the guards were right on her tail, determined to not let her escape.

At seeing the guards' relentless pursuit, the bandit inwardly cursed her amateurish mistake in not only being detected but also in allowing her hood to fall in her hasty getaway. Now the guards had an idea of what she looked like and were sure to keep an eye out for her if she ever had to return. If only that loud-mouthed bird hadn't been there, her robbery would have been a quick and easy one. What was a parrot doing in the treasure room anyway?

The dark clothing she wore blended well with the shadowy backdrop of the city. A cloth made of the same material as her clothes covered the lower half of her face while the old cloak she had on covered her head, leaving only dark brown eyes visible. The heavy, brown satchel that was draped over her shoulder thumped against her side.

The young girl made a sharp turn and then another and another in an anticipative attempt to confuse and lose her pursuers. She wasn't entirely sure of where she was going; she just knew she had to get out of the city. And fast. With a rueful smile, she realized just how foolish not planning out an escape route would be. Particularly foolish when the reason for no such route was because she thought she wouldn't need one. Cockiness would be the death of her.

She slipped into another alleyway, temporarily losing sight of the guards. Looking back, she grinned triumphantly. But her happiness was short-lived, because she soon collided painfully with a brick wall. It knocked the wind out of her but she managed to stay on her feet.

'_Dead end,_' she thought, looking up at the tall obstacle with a frown.

"Split up. You check that way, we'll look over here."

The sound of approaching footsteps caused her heart to drop. Fear crept up in the corners of her mind but she shook her head to dispel the thoughts of what would happen to her if she were caught. Scanning her surroundings, she looked for something, _anything_ that would aid in her escape. She checked behind her to see the shadows of the guards sliding along the nearby walls. They were getting closer.

With a gulp and a quick prayer to Allah, she jumped on top of a few abandoned crates. As quickly as she could manage, she made her way up the wall using whatever was available to climb to the top. When the guards finally reached the spot where she was, the thief was already sitting atop the wall.

Pulling down her veil, she looked down at them with a smirk. "Well boys," she started, swinging her legs over to the other side of the wall. "It's been fun but I'm afraid I have to go," And with that, she jumped down.

She landed silently on her feet on the ground below and quickly made her way to the outskirts of the city. She soon reached a small, isolated hut where a dark grey stallion – one she used to travel to Agrabah – was tied up. She hurriedly untied it and set off towards the city's exit. Once safely outside of the city, the girl urged the horse into a gallop, away from Agrabah and away from its guards.

When she was sure she was a safe distance away from the city the girl slowed the horse down to a steady trot. She patted the satchel that was still hung over her shoulder, pleased with herself. Despite her little slipup, her burglary was still successful. Now all she had to do was return to the city of Makkah and find Aadil. It would take a day's travel but would be worth it to acquire the considerably large bag of gold that she was promised. It didn't hurt that she also picked up a few gold coins during her robbery either.

'_You can never have too much gold_,' she thought.

She was so caught up in her musings that the young woman didn't notice the change in the desert's scenery. She didn't notice the dark, rolling clouds overhead or the heavy, oppressive sense of impending doom that saturated the air. She also didn't notice that, as she went along, the sands were changing from its usual sandy brown colour to an ominous black. But when she finally did get out of her thoughts long enough to look up, she immediately realized that she was lost.

She sighed in annoyance and pulled on the horse's reins, slowing it to a stop so that she could pull a map from her bag. But of course with it being night, the pale silvery light of the moon overhead was hardly enough to be able to _read_ the map. So with another sigh she put the map away.

"There seems to be a city over there on the horizon," She stated, looking off in the distance where the beginnings of buildings could be made out. "I'll stop there and ask for directions. C'mon, let's go," She motioned for the horse to move forward but it wouldn't. "I said, '_let's go_'," She repeated, this time more forcefully. But still the horse wouldn't budge.

"Stupid animal," She muttered, jumping off its back. She began pulling on its reins to get it to move but the horse snorted and pulled back, also pulling the reins out of her hands.

It seemed as though she would have to continue her journey on foot.

She gave the horse an "are-you-serious?" look, turned with an annoyed grunt and began walking towards the city. The horse's scared whinny caused her look back; she saw that it had already turned tail and was racing off in the opposite direction. Its strange behaviour puzzled her but she shrugged it off. She also didn't mind that the stallion had carried a few of her provisions with it; she figured she would pick up a few supplies from the town.

Once the young woman finally reached the city, she noticed something very odd: it was completely deserted and looked as though no one had lived there in years. This was made obvious by the empty streets and derelict buildings. It was clear to her that she was not going to get the help she needed.

"Oh, this is just great."

She knew she needed to continue her journey but she also knew that she couldn't. Not without knowing where she was or where she was going. So – reluctantly – she decided she would have to stay the night, look over her map in the morning and find another way to get to her destination.

She searched around the abandoned city for shelter and eventually found an empty house that wasn't too rundown. It wasn't much but was better than sleeping outside and being exposed to the elements. So she found a comfortable enough spot in the far corner of the small room and settled down, taking off her satchel and veil in the process. Lastly, her hood came off to reveal her curly mass of black hair. It was tied up atop her head and away from her face, although a few strands still managed to escape and fell over her forehead.

She used her satchel as a makeshift pillow and reached into one of the pockets of her cloak to pull out a dagger. It was for protection, in case the city wasn't as deserted as she thought. She placed the weapon on the ground well within arm's reach. It was only when the girl lied down did she realize just how tired she was and soon drifted off to sleep.

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><p>She was abruptly woken up by the sound of the door opening and immediately sat up, her hand reaching for the dagger at her side. But the sight before her compelled her to freeze. What looked like two animated corpses stood over her; gazing down with yellow, unblinking eyes. But what really caught her attention was the light brown eel hovering above their heads. Her eyebrows shot up in confusion and alarm and for a moment she forgot how to breathe. She was used to seeing eels swimming in water, not floating in air! It was an ugly thing and the girl flinched when it slithered towards her, coming uncomfortably close to her face.<p>

She swiftly picked up her dagger and swung her arm out. Luckily for the eel (but unluckily for her) it recoiled just in time for the dagger's sharp point to narrowly miss its throat. It slithered further away from the girl, giving her a glare and baring jagged, pointed teeth.

"We find intruder," It hissed in a nasally voice, turning towards the other two. "Take her to Mozenrath."

At hearing the eel speak, she let out a shocked gasp. It was one thing to see a normally flightless animal floating in mid-air but it was another to hear it _talk_ as well! In her stunned state, the two un-dead guards shuffled over to her and each took one of her arms in a vice-like grip. The eel picked up her bag in its mouth and lead the way out of the house.

The first thing that came to her mind was to scream. And so she did. It was a loud, piercing shriek that made the floating eel wince and put its fins over what would be its ears. But the un-dead guards seemed completely unaffected and after a moment's pause, continued to carry her out. She silently cursed. '_Of course that wouldn't achieve anything,_' she reprimanded herself. '_Who do you think is going to hear you and come dashing to your rescue?_'

The girl tried to twist out of their hold. She struggled and fought, kicking out her legs in a vain attempt to injure her captors but it was no use; the only thing the struggle managed to do was knock the dagger out of her hand. And so she was dragged outside – tired and unarmed – towards a black stone tower settled on top of a precarious cliff.

In her final and desperate attempt at freedom, she tried to persuade her captors to let her go. "I really didn't know this place was off limits. If I had known no intruders were allowed I wouldn't have come…here.… Really, I was just looking for a place to stay the night."

But she stopped talking after noticing that her pleas were falling on deaf ears.

The unnecessarily large doors of the tower opened to reveal that the tower was just as cold and unwelcoming on the inside as it was on the outside. Once the doors were shut behind them, the girl was thrown ungracefully to the floor and landed (rather painfully) in front of a pair of shoes. Her eyes followed the path up dark robes until her gaze rested on the face of a young man. Unsettled by his harsh gaze and pale face, she sat up and backed away from him.

"Xerxes, are you sure _this_ is what set off the alarms?" The man asked in a low voice.

The eel's nod was slightly hindered by the weight of the bag in his mouth.

"Hmmm… She doesn't _look_ very magical."

Xerxes then proceeded to drop the bag onto the floor and wriggled his way into it. He slid back out with a small ring clutched between his teeth and dropped it into Mozenrath's open palm.

The man named Mozenrath looked over the ring, disinterested at first. But his eyes widened the moment he recognized the symbols carved into the ring's band. _The Seal of Solomon_. It was a powerful artefact, allowing its wearer the power to command demons.

Mozenrath strode over to where the young girl was sitting on the floor and without warning, grabbed her by the front of her tunic. He roughly dragged her up so that they were at eye level. The girl had to stand on the tips of her toes.

"Where did you get this?" He growled, holding up the ring.

"I-I stole it. From the palace…i-in Agrabah," she replied quietly. The intense glare that he was giving her made her uncomfortable and from it she guessed he was not one who took kindly to being lied to.

His eyes narrowed further in suspicion; scepticism was practically written all over his face.

"I did!" She pressed on. "It was a task I am being paid to do."

"Who are you?" he snapped, ignoring her obvious discomfort. "Who sent you?"

The young girl hesitated but the look he gave her prompted her to answer. She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat with some difficulty. And although she tried to appear calm, her voice came out shakier than she wanted. "I-Isra'. My name is Isra'. And no one _sent_ me here. I was just travelling and needed somewhere to rest. I came across your –" she looked around. "–fine city...by accident."

He pushed her backwards and lifted his right hand, which Isra' could see was covered by a gauntlet that started to glow a menacing red. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't destroy you right now for trespassing."

The young girl racked her brain for something that would interest him and spare her life. "I'm a thief for hire. I steal valuable items and I'm paid in return. Not the noblest of professions…" she shrugged. "But it's a living. Anything you need? I can get it for you."

"What makes you think you could be of any use to me?" He sneered, lowering his arm. Isra' noted with a silent sigh of relief that the gauntlet had stopped glowing. "I've had rather unsuccessful attempts with hiring common thieves to do my bidding." His voice was dripping with condescendence; he obviously didn't think too much of her kind.

"I am _no_ common thief!" Isra' huffed. For a second she forgot the danger she was in.

He folded his arms over his chest and lifted a dark eyebrow. "Really now."

Isra' held up her hand to show a golden amulet resting in her palm. Mozenrath instantly recognized it as his and searched the pocket that he had secured the amulet in, only to find that the pocket was empty.

"She good," Xerxes said with an impressed tone in his voice.

Mozenrath glared at his familiar and snatched the amulet out of the young woman's hand. Isra' shrank back, fearing the worst that could happen.

"Take her to the dungeons," Mozenrath ordered, turning and walking away. "I'll deal with her tomorrow."

"What?" Isra's heart and stomach dropped at the mention of the word 'dungeon'. "No!"

The two un-dead servants that brought her there grabbed her before she could make a run for it. And once again, Isra' found herself being dragged, this time down a passageway towards a door. It was opened to reveal a stone staircase descending into gloomy, foreboding shadows but she didn't have time to feel afraid before she was lead down deep into the dungeon. One of the many cells was unlocked and she was roughly pushed inside. The caged door slammed behind her and locked.

'_What have I gotten myself into?_' She thought with dread as she watched her captors disappear into the darkness.


	2. Under New Management

**Author's Note: So I haven't updated in... a while. As in_ a while_, a while. I can't give a valid excuse, my only explanation is a killer bout of writer's block coupled with pure laziness. **

**This chapter was written without my beta going over the final, final draft. So if it seems kind of ..meh, I'm sure that's why. ^^;**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Under New Management<strong>

Isra' wasn't sure when, but sometime during the night she managed to fall asleep in the cramped, dank space of the dungeon. Her eyes slowly opened and she groaned when a sharp pain shot through her back as she sat up. She surveyed her surroundings through heavy-lidded eyes; mystified at first as to how she got there. But the memory of the previous night's events came rushing back in the form of a particularly nasty headache.

Ignoring the pain in her temples and back, Isra' rose, crossed the short distance to the cell's cage door and gripped its cold bars. She tried to rattle it in order to test its sturdiness but the door barely budged. Her eyes flickered over to the cell's lock and she reached out a hand to touch it. As soon as her skin made contact with the piece of metal, it emitted a strange blue jolt of energy that gave her a slight shock. She quickly retracted her arm to nurse her singed fingers.

"Magic," she muttered, glaring at the lock as the blue light around it buzzed and crackled.

Once the glow faded Isra' gave another hopeful pull at the bars. But when that provided no results she took to looking around her cell. It was small, with barely enough room for her to walk around in. She studied the row of cells across from her and – even in the dim light of the torches attached to the wall – noticed they were considerably larger than the one she was thrown into.

The only window was on the other side of the dungeon and at least ten feet from the ground and getting to it would be impossible. There was no way out. Isra' had managed to successfully escape capture and imprisonment up until now and the thought of what could possibly happen to her was becoming unnerving.

The sound of an opening door jostled Isra' out of her thoughts and she jerked her head up to see the young sorcerer approaching. When he reached her, he stood in front of her cell with his arms folded and an amused expression on his face.

"Did our little prisoner have a good night's sleep?" Mozenrath asked in a faux concerned drawl.

"Good night's sleep," Xerxes parroted, snickering fiendishly from his place on Mozenrath's shoulder.

Isra' scowled at the both of them. "Let me go."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Mozenrath replied. "You see, I don't like trespassers. Usually if some poor soul is foolish enough to enter my lands, they are disposed of immediately. But I think I can find some use of you.

"I plan on becoming the ruler of the Seven Deserts," he further explained. "And while my magic is powerful, it isn't enough to take on such a task alone. That is why I look for magical artifacts to aid me in my quest. They're easy enough to locate but often hard to get hold of. _You_ are going to retrieve them for me."

"And what do I get in return?" Isra' wasn't one to do a job for free, even if it was a job for a crazed sorcerer currently held her prisoner.

"You get to live," he replied, accentuating his remark by threateningly lifting his glowing gauntlet.

Isra' flinched back. "When do I start?"

"Right now actually," he answered, unlocking the cage door. Isra' stepped out of the cell and Mozenrath tossed her satchel at her. As soon as she caught the leather bag she quickly opened and searched it. To her relief, everything – beside the ring – was still there.

"You will be going after the Yursemite Hand in Upanistan," Mozenrath explained. "It's in the treasure room of the city's palace. You'll know it when you see it; it's a golden hand. If you can acquire it, I will allow you to live in the citadel and continue working for me. But if you fail, well, let's just say… don't fail. The penalty for stealing from the palace in Upanistan is death."

Isra' nodded her understanding as she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. "I'm not familiar with those lands so I'll need a map. And a horse as well; my previous one ran away. …What?" she asked him tensely.

Mozenrath was staring at her with a raised eyebrow and the corners of his mouth were turned down. "Nothing, nothing," he said dismissively. "It's just that…my, how to put this."

"W-what?! What is it?" Isra' pressed on. She was quickly becoming annoyed with him.

"Are you always this unprepared? I mean… a map, a horse? I don't see how it's my problem you don't have any of these things. Silly me. I thought – being such an expert and all – you'd be able to do this without my help."

"Thief no good?" Xerxes asked, shaking his head.

"It appears so," Mozenrath sighed.

Isra's eyes narrowed. If there was one thing she did not appreciate, it was having her abilities questioned. At that instant all of her logic went out of the nearest window – she knew this was payback for the little stunt she pulled earlier with his amulet. The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think to stop them.

"Fine! You want the stupid hand? I'll get it. And I won't need a map or a horse! In fact, I'll have it back here _tonight_."

"Tonight?" He sounded somewhat unimpressed.

"This afternoon!" she curtly corrected.

Mozenrath smirked. "If you insist." He waved his gauntlet covered hand and a cloud of black smoke appeared in midair in front of them. It quickly dissipated and in its place a magic portal materialized. "The palace is just past the city's market place. Come back to this spot when you've retrieved the hand."

Isra' peered through the portal and with surprise noticed that it lead straight into the city of Upanistan. She hesitantly placed her foot into the portal but was reassured when it touched firm ground. She stepped through, amazed at the power the gauntlet provided despite the fact that she despised its owner.

"And remember," Mozenrath called out after her. "I'll be keeping a close eye on you. So don't get any stupid ideas, like trying to run away."

Isra' inwardly cursed, as that was exactly what she had planned to do. She pulled her veil over the bottom half of her face to hide her irritated expression. "Wish me luck," she muttered sarcastically as the portal disappeared.

With a huff, she set off towards the cluster of large tents: the marketplace. It was noisy; filled with the sights and sounds of people going about their morning tasks. With her small stature and commonplace clothing, Isra' raised no alarm and blended in easily with the crowds. No one even noticed she had literally appeared out of nowhere. As she made her way through the throng of people, vendors shouted at her to take a look at the goods they had for sale. But none of the perfumes, jewelry or clothing interested her so she kept moving with her head low.

However, she did quickly snatch a shiny red apple as she passed a fruit stand without its vendor noticing. The pains in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten since her almost-botched job in Agrabah. She was famished. And she figured some food would also help with her headache.

Just as she brought the fruit to her mouth and bit down she heard a small voice. "M-Money for food?"

Isra' stopped. She wasn't sure where the voice came from and for a second thought she had imagined it. But looking down she saw a young boy who didn't look much older than seven. He was dressed in grimy rags and his face, hands and bare feet were covered with dirt. She studied the child from under her hood, not moving and not speaking. After a few seconds and no response, the boy sighed heavily and moved to walk away but stopped when Isra' reached into her satchel. He looked up at her hopefully and grinned widely when she handed him a small bag of gold coins.

"Thank you," he said, bowing. He then turned and bounded down a nearby alleyway towards a pathetic looking hovel wedged between two other equally pathetic looking shacks. Isra' quickly finished her apple and continued her journey to soon find herself at the palace gates. She gazed up at the towering white stone walls. It was too high to even consider climbing as an option.

"State your business," a deep voice barked.

It was the gates' guard who spoke. He was a brute of a man; towering, burly and intimidating.

Isra' dropped her voice an octave lower in the hopes of making it sound at least slightly masculine. "I am a messenger from a kingdom in a land far away. My king sent me to deliver a message to your sultan. It is a matter of great importance that requires his attention immediately."

To further back up her lie Isra' pulled out a rolled up parchment, being careful to keep her very female clothing hidden under her cloak. The parchment had a golden seal on it that Isra' hoped the guard would believe to be of royal origins. Truthfully, Isra' had no idea where the scroll came from or what was even written on it. She stole it off of a seedy looking merchant during her visit to the Thieves' Guild. She was told that it was very valuable and planned to resell it at a much higher price, whether its value was true or not.

Isra's heart nearly stopped when the guard came closer and attempted to get a better look at her hidden face.

"Are you sure you are a man?" he asked, reaching for her hood.

Isra' ducked out of the way. "O-of course I am!" she insisted, trying to put on a tougher sounding voice.

The guard didn't respond but instead folded his arms over his large barrel chest. It was quite obvious he didn't believe her story and was not letting her through.

"It is very unfortunate that you do not believe me. I will have to explain to my king that your sultan does not wish to have an audience with me. Such disgrace …what an uproar this will cause." Isra' put the scroll away, shook her head sadly and turned on her heels.

Five, four, three, two…

"Wait."

Isra' stopped and smirked behind her veil. She turned back to the guard. "Yes?"

If the thieving business ever stopped being lucrative, she was sure she would be able to get a job with travelling actors and performers.

He seemed to internally battle with himself momentarily before he finally gave in. "You may pass." He stepped aside and pulled a lever on the wall. There was a clunking sound as the tall palace gates slowly opened.

"Thank you, sir. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated," Isra' said with a bow as she passed him.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving his hand dismissively.

Isra' managed to sneak her way into the palace while successfully remaining unnoticed. She crept through the large halls of the palace, making sure to keep close to the walls and within the shadows. She found tricking the guard to be surprisingly easy but knew the next step in her plan would not be as effortless. She still had to get to the treasure room, get the hand and get out… all without being caught. And on top of that she wasn't familiar with the layout of this palace, so she hadn't the slightest idea as to where the sultan's treasures were kept.

Isra' halted.

In her moment of realization she slapped a hand to her forehead and silently berated herself. How was she supposed to steal a precious, ancient artifact if she didn't even know where it was?

At that moment, there was approaching footsteps which prompted Isra' to sink further into the shadows. The person stopped just a few feet away from where Isra' was crouched behind a pillar. "I know you're there; no point in hiding anymore."

Thinking it better to not pretend she hadn't heard him, Isra' slowly slunk out from her hiding place.

The thin, bearded man gave her a once over, apparently not amused. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the guards and have you executed right now."

Isra' gulped. '_Think fast, think fast._' "Uh, because if I'm executed… I wouldn't be able to… Are you satisfied with your line of work, sir?"

Taken aback by the sudden change in the conversation's direction, he sputtered, "W-what?"

"You seem to be the kind of man that deserves the finer things in life. But I'm sensing you're discontent."

He frowned. "Well…"

Seeing her opening, Isra' pounced. "Just as I suspected um... what did you say your name was, again?"

Forgetting that he never offered his name, the man replied, "Rabi."

"Rabi, my good man, you're the Royal Vizier, am I correct?" When he nodded, Isra' continued with a nod of her own. "But to me it seems you're not being _treated_ as the Royal Vizier. I've seen peasants with more jewelry. And forgive me, but those robes look out of date. Where I come from, the sultan's vizier has everything: fame, power, women... his own treasury."

"Interesting," he said, rubbing his chin in though. "Which lands do you hail from?"

"Uh, that's not important," Isra' said, waving dismissively. "The point is, he's got all that stuff and you _don't_. At least, I'm assuming you don't."

A look of resentment flashed across Rabi's face. "No, I do not. But what do you propose I do about it?"

"Well if it were me, I would go up to the sultan and demand my rightful pay. After all, I'm sure this is a very stressful job and one would have to be sick in the head to do it for nearly nothing."

"You are right, I will go there now."

He began to walk in the direction he came from but Isra' stopped him with her hand planted firmly on his chest. "But first," she said. "Why not go into the treasury and take a few rubies and sapphires? Show him you know what you deserve and you're not afraid to take it."

"That is an excellent idea, my friend. Come, let us go. I think you deserve a small cut, for showing me the light." Isra' almost leapt for joy but kept her expression neutral and controlled. "You know, I've always felt I deserved better. Even as a child," Rabi lamented, leading the way.

"Tell me _all_ about it," she smirked, following close behind.

The sight she was met with left her in awe. Mountains of gold and jewels, numerous chests filled with glittering treasures and trinkets. Isra' was so caught up in the scenery that she almost forgot the job she was sent here to do.

With a quick scan around the room, Isra' spotted a golden, ruby encrusted scepter. It looked heavy. She lifted it and – while Rabi was busy rambling on about the unfairness that was his life – brought it down over his head. The force was just enough to knock him out without doing any grievous harm. Hopefully.

Isra' discarded the makeshift weapon and searched for the artifact she was starting to hope had the ability to turn sand into gold with all the trouble it was causing her. And there it was – the Yursemite Hand – sitting prettily on a wooden table along with various other jeweled trinkets. Just as Isra' expected it was a small hand-shaped golden statuette. She reached out to grab it but stilled. Was it booby trapped? Surely a treasure this valuable would have _some_ level of security. She figured she had no other way of finding out, so Isra' gently picked up the hand and placed it into her satchel. So far, so good.

Isra' was about to leave when she decided that she deserved a little something for herself. Mozenrath certainly wasn't planning on paying her for her troubles so she began to scoop a generous amount of gold coins and various gems into her satchel and pockets.

As she was putting away the last handful of coins, the treasure room's doors were thrown open. In the doorway stood the palace guard who did not look happy; in fact he looked down-right livid. His eyes were narrowed, his mouth was set into a grimace so deep it looked painful and his face was turning an interesting shade of purple. Standing beside him was another man, the sultan Isra' presumed from the way he was dressed in lavish robes and excessive jewelry. But there was something eerily off about this man… as though something was _missing_.

Ah, right.

His head.

For reasons unknown to Isra' the man before her was without a doubt completely decapitated. Yet he somehow managed to still be alive. But Isra' didn't have time to ponder the strange and truthfully sickening sight before the headless sultan lifted his arm. Isra' cursed loudly as she jumped out of the way of the sudden barrage of energy blasts aimed directly at her. She was able to dodge most of them but the last came uncomfortably close and managed to completely disintegrate the bottom half of her cloak.

Groaning, she grabbed a nearby silver-plated shield and held it out in front of her just as the headless sultan threw another blast at her. The blast ricocheted off of the shield and hit both the sultan and the guard, knocking them off guard and onto the floor. Taking the opportunity, she jumped out of the nearest window, climbed down a few storeys and hopped from rooftop to rooftop, back to the magic portal waiting for her.

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><p>Mozenrath smirked, pleased, as he passed the artifact from one hand to the other. "Well, well. It seems you're not a useless as I initially thought. It also seems you've got a soft spot for street rats," he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.<p>

Isra looked up at him wide-eyed from her place on the stone floor where she landed as soon as she jumped through the portal. She could feel her cheeks grow warm. "You saw that?"

"Of course I did. I'll have to remember that piece of information. It might prove useful in the future." But before Isra' could question what he meant, Mozenrath continued. "You'll be shown to your new living accommodations. I'd advise you to get some rest. You're going to need it."


End file.
